The second required more tactful handling.  As our train-load drew up at the platform, the officer in charge—­it was Captain Blaikie, supported by Bobby Little—­stepped out, saluted the somewhat rotund Colonel Hyde whom he saw before him, and proffered a sheaf of papers.

“Good-morning, sir,” he said.  “Here is my train statement.  Shall I carry on with the unloading?  I have all my parties detailed.”

The great man waved away the papers magnificently. (To be just, even the Jekylls used to wave away our papers.)

“Take those things away,” he commanded, in a voice which made it plain that we had encountered another hustler.  “Burn them, if you like!  Now listen to me.  Tell off an officer and seventy men at once.”

“I have all the necessary parties detailed already, sir.”

“Will you listen to me?” roared the Colonel.  He turned to where Captain Blaikie’s detachment were drawn up on the platform, “Take the first seventy men of that lot, and tell them to stand over there, under an officer.”

Captain Blaikie gave the necessary order.

“Now,” continued Colonel Hyde, “tell them to get the horses out and on board that steamer at once.  The rest of your party are to go by another steamer.  See?”

“Yes, sir, perfectly.  But—­”

“Do you understand my order?” thundered the Colonel, with increasing choler.

“I do, sir,” replied Blaikie politely, “but—­”

“Then, for heaven’s sake, carry on!”

Blaikie saluted.

“Very good, sir,” he answered.  “Mr. Little, come with me.”

He turned upon his heel and disappeared rapidly round a corner, followed by the mystified Bobby.

Once out of the sight of the Colonel, Captain Blaikie halted, leaned against a convenient pillar, and lit a cigarette.

“And what do you think of that?” he inquired.

Bobby told him.

“Quite so,” agreed Blaikie.  “But what you say helps nobody, though doubtless soothing to the feelings.  Now listen, Bobby, and I will give you your first lesson in the Tactical Handling of Brass Hats.  Of course we might do as that dear old gentleman suggests, and send seventy horses and mules on a sea voyage in charge of a party of cooks, signallers, and machine-gunners, and let the grooms and drivers go with the bicycles and machine-guns and field kitchens.  But I don’t think we will.  Nobody would enjoy the experiment much—­except perhaps the mules.  No:  we will follow the golden rule, which is:  When given an impossible job by a Brass Hat, salute smartly, turn about, and go and wait round a corner for five minutes.  Then come back and do the job in a proper manner.  Our five minutes are up:  the coast should be clear.  Come along, Bobby, and help me to exchange those two parties.”

But we encountered surprisingly few Hydes.  Nearly all were Jekylls—­Jekylls of the most competent and courteous type.  True, they were inclined to treat our laboriously completed returns with frivolity.